“London.” Then she added wearily, “You could have discovered by examining my labels.”
Her fatigue made him the more determined to be helpful. “I didn't ask out of impertinence, but because I thought it would be London. Probably there'll be no train to London to-night. If the Prince had been with us, they'd have put on a special, but you and I are the only passengers, and neither of us is sufficiently important. Besides, after this delay, it'll be nearly daylight before we clear the Customs.”
“Then I'll have to sleep in Plymouth.”
“Perhaps you'll be met by friends?”
He had no sooner hazarded the suggestion than an obvious conjecture flashed through his mind. The marvel was that it had not flashed earlier. She might be married. If the conjecture proved correct, it would put the final punishing touch of satire to this wild-goose romance.
Sweeping him with her pale, derisive eyes, “Friends!” she murmured. “You may set your mind at rest. I shall be met by no friends.”
After that there was silence, a silence interrupted at intervals by the exclamations of the players as they thumped down their cards and raked in their pennies.
For relief he reverted to the subject uppermost in both their minds. “I wonder what became of him.”
“I wonder.” Her tone betrayed no interest.
“I've been trying to think back,” he said, “trying to remember when last I saw him.”